


Getting Between Them

by AmberBrown



Series: Reading between the Lines [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: Marsac returns after a long mission. Porthos wonders if he will have to step back from Aramis now that his best friend has returned.
Relationships: Aramis/Porthos
Series: Reading between the Lines [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542634
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This follows on from the previous story.

‘Aramis,’ said Treville. ‘I thought you might like to know that Marsac is back.’

Porthos saw the change in his friend instantly. Aramis looked towards the door of the infirmary for a few seconds before going back to making up the painkiller. Porthos noted that his friend was working quicker, but no less diligently than he had been. 

‘You remember Marsac?’ asked Treville, who had turned back to Porthos.

Porthos nodded, ‘yes, I didn’t get much time to talk to him before he went off on his mission. But he was friendly.’

Aramis turned to them, the cup with the painkiller in his hand, ‘he’s one of the friendliest people I know,’ he said.

Porthos took the cup from Aramis and sipped the foul-tasting drink. He knew it would help ease the pain he was in and probably make him drowsy. He watched Aramis glance at the door again, he could tell the Musketeer wanted to catch up with his friend.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Porthos said, ‘I’ve been confined to the infirmary for a few hours. I’ll behave.’

Treville chuckled, ‘Porthos is right. I’m sure Marsac would like to see a friendly face. He’s been away for several weeks and other than me debriefing him he’s not seen anyone yet. He’s in the mess. Serge is probably feeding him up, he always says you’re all too skinny.’

‘What was his mission?’ asked Porthos. ‘Can you say?’

Treville nodded, ‘it was important but not highly secretive. The King needed orders taken to the border. We concluded that one man travelling alone would not draw as much attention. Marsac had to be discreet. He told me he has been forced to camp most nights. It’s been a rough mission for him. He’ll need a couple of days to fully recover. Although he’s not in as bad a shape as you are.’

Porthos managed a smile.

‘No wonder Serge is feeding him up,’ said Aramis, before looking at Porthos. ‘Promise me you won’t strain your shoulder?’

Porthos nodded, ‘I will sit here and do nothing until you release me. Then I will sit somewhere else and do very little on light duties.’

Aramis chuckled, Porthos liked seeing his friend acting so positively. Porthos could tell Aramis was not putting on a front, he was genuinely glad his friend had returned. He knew that Aramis had gradually come to relax around him, but with other people there always seemed to be a slight barrier, even with the Captain. The moment they had shared before Treville had entered the infirmary, mere minutes before, had been quite intense. Porthos wanted more but now that Aramis’ friend was back would that be possible. Porthos wondered what kind of relationship Aramis and Marsac had. Aramis had told him that he had never spoken about his childhood to anyone else, did that include one of his best friends?

Porthos wondered if their friendship would be the same now that Marsac had returned?

Aramis took the empty cup from Porthos, his fingers brushing against his hand. Porthos could not help wondering if those little moments would not happen anymore. He had hoped after their moment - their connection - that he had taken a step towards getting Aramis to accept who he was. But now that was probably gone. Marsac was the friend that Aramis had been missing, had Porthos just been a stopgap? He did not think Aramis would have used him, at least not consciously. 

As Porthos shuffled back onto the bed, swinging his legs up, Aramis helped him. Keeping his hand on Porthos’ uninjured shoulder until he was settled. Porthos was tempted to maintain the illusion that he was riding out the pain the movement had caused for a few more seconds, but at the same time, he did not want to cause his friend worry.

‘Go and see your friend,’ he said once he was settled. 

Aramis smiled, the smile reached his eyes, ‘I’ll be back in a bit.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Porthos reminded him.

Treville held the door open for Aramis who disappeared in the direction of the mess. As the door closed, leaving Porthos alone, he wondered what the next few days would be like. He was sure Aramis would not suddenly lose interest in their friendship, but it was bound to be different. 

MMMM

Aramis was pleased that Porthos had not complained about drinking the pain killer, his friend had been trying to hide how uncomfortable he was, but it was plain to see. Porthos would be uncomfortable for a few days as his wound knitted together. The stitches would no doubt be irritating as well. Aramis knew, despite the man’s insistence that he was fine, he was anything but. He wondered if Marsac would keep an eye on Porthos. If Marsac was to be put on light duties for a couple of days he would be around the garrison. Aramis doubted Treville would allow him to look after Porthos when there were duties to be carried out elsewhere. Aramis would have liked to remain with his friend, and fully intended to return and check on him once he had welcomed Marsac back. 

Marsac had been gone for several weeks. Aramis had missed him. Although he was friendly with most of the men in the garrison, Marsac - and now Porthos - were the ones that he was particularly fond of. He had a connection with Porthos, despite how unfortunate it was, and he had always enjoyed Marsac’s company. 

As he reached the door to the mess, he could hear Marsac inside, chatting to Serge, no doubt putting the world to rights. He pushed the door open, unable to stop the wide smile spreading across his face. 

‘I thought you would never come back,’ he said.

Marsac looked up, he dropped the chicken leg he had been picking at and pushed himself up to stand. The two Musketeers met in the middle of the room. Marsac grabbed Aramis in a brotherly hug, Aramis slapped his friends back several times. As they pushed apart Aramis could not help looking his friend over with a critical eye.

‘I’m fine,’ said Marsac with a grin, ‘I’m shattered. Looking forward to my bed. After I’ve eaten, I’ll be peeling off these wretched clothes, getting cleaned up and then sleeping...in a bed...for a week.’

Serge laughed, ‘I didn’t like to say how much he stank.’

‘Oh, believe me, my friend,’ Marsac chuckled, ‘I know.’

‘Well get that food down you and get yourself cleaned up.’

Serge wandered off, leaving the two Musketeers alone. 

‘How was it?’ asked Aramis as the two Musketeers settled themselves at the table.

Marsac took a few bites of his chicken before responding. Aramis took the moment to fill a cup with water and steal a hunk of bread from his friend’s plate.

‘Cold,’ replied Marsac, ‘I managed to stop in taverns a few times, but mostly I was camping. Found a cave one night, that was warmer until it rained, and I found out I laid out my bedroll in the only spot where the water pooled.’

Aramis smirked.

‘And there was a wolf at one point, followed me for several hours, the horse got quite skittish.’

‘That could have been nasty,’ remarked Aramis. ‘And the place you delivered the message to?’

‘Another blasted camp,’ Marsac said with a shake of his head. ‘Although well-established so I had a chance to restock and freshen up… What about you? The Captain said you’d had a spot of bother with some of the cadets.’

Aramis looked away for a few seconds. He knew he could not keep the fact that he had been badly beaten a few weeks before, but he was not sure he could relate all the details to his friend. Marsac did not know about his childhood, neither of them talked much about their past and Aramis was happy for it to stay that way. He decided to tell his friend about what had happened but leave out the parts that only he and Porthos knew.

‘Do you remember Deschamps?’ asked Aramis.

Marsac nodded, ‘wasn’t he the one that always had a little gang of lads around him. Thought he was a bit better than the rest.’

‘That’s the one,’ continued Aramis. ‘They found out that Porthos, the cadet that grew up in the Court, couldn’t read and write.’

Marsac shook his head, guessing what was to come, ‘they’re all told that our backgrounds and upbringings mean nothing in this regiment.’

Aramis sighed and nodded, ‘it didn’t make any difference to them. They spent some time teasing him. He punched one of them-’

‘Good for him,’ interjected Marsac.

‘I reported them to Treville, and they didn’t take too kindly to that. I rather foolishly got cornered by them and beaten...I was so shocked that a bunch of cadets were standing up to me that I let my guard down-’

Marsac chuckled, ‘you always were too trusting.’

‘Porthos stopped them. And he also stopped them the second time as well.’

‘You got beaten up by them twice? Are you losing your touch?’

Aramis managed a smile, ‘I was more alert the second time but there were too many to deal with...and they knocked me out pretty sharpish.’

‘And Porthos saved you? I remember him being quite a capable cadet. Where is he? I need to thank him for looking after you whilst I wasn’t here. Seems you can’t be trusted on your own.’

Aramis looked down and sighed again, ‘he’s currently in the infirmary. Deschamps attacked him earlier today.’

Marsac leaned back in his chair and stared at Aramis.

‘I know,’ said Aramis, ‘we’ve managed to get ourselves an enemy. Deschamps and his gang are Red Guardsmen now-’

‘Why weren’t they dealt with for attacking you?’

‘When Porthos saved me, he ended up killing a couple of them. It was self-defence but there’s a high chance it won’t be believed…’

Marsac nodded his understanding, Porthos’ heritage and upbringing left the Musketeer at a disadvantage.

‘And you’re stuck in a stalemate, they’re out to get you and you can’t do anything about it, other than watch your backs?’

Aramis nodded, ‘it’s really pathetic.’

Marsac shook his head with a huff of laughter, ‘guess I’ll have to keep an eye on the both of you.’

‘I was hoping you’d keep an eye on Porthos for the next couple of days. He’s on bed rest for a few hours then light duties, and since you’ll be here…’

‘Least I can do,’ said Marsac, ‘although I’d like to have a word with Deschamps-’

‘Please don’t,’ said Aramis. ‘Don’t make it worse for us... ‘

Aramis could tell his friend was annoyed at what had happened. He was glad Marsac had not been around when the attack had first happened. If Aramis could be accused of being a bit impetuous, Marsac was far worse. The Musketeer was known to jump to conclusions and had been in trouble a few times for acting hastily.

Marsac regarded Aramis for a few seconds before nodding, although Aramis was not sure his friend would let the matter drop. He went back to eating his meal, Aramis could almost see the plans forming in Marsac’s mind for revenge. He knew he would have to keep an eye on him for a few days. 

‘Porthos got his commission,’ said Aramis in an attempt to change the subject.

Marsac nodded his approval, ‘he was in the infantry, wasn’t he? Good with his fists?’

‘When I found out he couldn’t read I offered to teach him,’ said Aramis, pleased to be able to talk about something more positive, ‘and in return, he’s been teaching me.’

Marsac laughed, ‘teaching you to fight? Does that mean you’ll be able to get a punch in next time we spar?’

Aramis nodded, ‘he taught a few of the commissioned men.’

‘The Captain knows good men when he sees them,’ said Marsac, ‘I mean, he picked both of us…’

Aramis laughed.

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes as Marsac finished his meal. Aramis compared the time to his with Porthos. They had become at ease with each other to not feel the need to speak, to fill any silences. Aramis was pleased to have found another friend with whom he could just be himself. He could relax with Marsac...although it was not quite the same. Marsac did not know all that Aramis did in his spare time, and Aramis would never admit to those things. Marsac would not approve, which was correct, thought Aramis, but he could not help himself, nonetheless. But with Porthos, Aramis had found a friend who seemed to understand the urges, even if Porthos did not think it was wrong. 

‘Where have you gone?’

Aramis blinked and looked at Marsac.

‘You were miles away,’ said Marsac with a smile.

‘Sorry,’ said Aramis not wishing to elaborate on what he had been thinking about.

Marsac smirked, ‘you ecclesiastical types, always wrestling with something in your mind… Is Porthos a religious man?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Good,’ replied Marsac as he pushed his empty plate away and stood up, ‘we can gang up on you and get you to see sense.’

Aramis smiled as he led his friend out of the mess and towards the infirmary.

As he pushed the door open, he saw Porthos open his eyes. The Musketeer looked brighter than he had looked after getting the stitches. Although it was obvious the man was still uncomfortable. Porthos looked a little confused. 

Marsac was quick to cross the room and shake Porthos’ hand, being careful not to jostle the injured man too much. 

‘I just wanted to thank you for saving his life,’ said Marsac, his smile genuine. ‘Twice... he can’t be trusted, can he?’

Marsac winked conspiratorially. Aramis rolled his eyes. 

Porthos recovered from his shock at the new arrival, ‘he did stand up to them first, stopped them harassing me, it was the least I could do…’

Marsac stood back, ‘well, when you are fit, I will be treating you to dinner. You saved my best mate and that deserves repayment of good wine and food and the chance to sweet talk a serving girl or two.’

Aramis saw Porthos glance very briefly at him, a slight look of confusion on his face. Aramis could see Porthos working out that Marsac did not know about his sinful urges. Porthos did not react, he simply chuckled and nodded. 

‘I would like that very much,’ he said. ‘But don’t let me keep you from catching up with Aramis-’

It was Marsac’s turn to look a little confused, ‘keep me from catching up with Aramis? Why would I need to do that on my own? He’s asked me to keep an eye on you whilst I’m on duty around the garrison.’

Porthos did not bother to hide the confusion the second time. Aramis smiled, he realised what his friend was thinking. He was about to reassure his friend when Marsac spoke again.

‘You think that now I’m back I’ll steal your new friend away from you? Think again, Porthos. Any friend of Aramis’ is a friend of mine.’

Aramis liked the look of relief on Porthos’ face. The slight moment of worry was not something Aramis was used to seeing from his friend. Porthos was always so sure of himself, in those few seconds, Aramis had disliked the look of loss Porthos experienced. Aramis did not want his friend to ever feel alone, not after his upbringing. Porthos needed people around him. And now they were a threesome, and Aramis had two friends that he could trust.


	2. Chapter 2

_A few days later… ___

__Aramis lay in his bed listening to the snore of his roommate, he had missed the company. Marsac was not the tidiest of men, but his friendship was welcomed. Aramis glanced across at the sleeping man on the other bed, the blankets tangled and falling off. He thought about the last few days. Porthos had recovered well from his injury and, although he was still having to take things easy, was up and about. Treville had put his Musketeer’s newfound reading and writing skills to good use. The injured man could not do much around the garrison, but he could deal with the frequent letters of introduction that arrived for the Captain. Porthos had been given the task of reading the letters and picking out the most promising men that wanted to join the garrison._ _

__Marsac had spent a couple of days recovering from his long mission with light duties around the garrison. Marsac and Porthos had spent some time together which had pleased Aramis. It had annoyed him that Porthos thought that he would perhaps not be as friendly towards him after Marsac’s return. But now the three of them were fast becoming inseparable._ _

__Aramis knew he could never speak to Marsac about the abuse he had suffered as a child. Now that he had come to accept that what had happened to him was not his fault, he found that he was not as affected by it. Although he still felt the need to be with men on occasion, Aramis guessed the corruption would not disappear simply because he had accepted what had happened to him. But knowing that he had someone in Porthos who had been through a similar childhood was a comfort he had not known he needed._ _

__He thought back to the incident in the infirmary when he had been treating Porthos’ wound. The simple act of wrapping the bandage around Porthos played on his mind. Their physical closeness was not unusual. He was acting as the medic, he needed to treat Porthos, needed to touch him...but there had been something else. Just for a moment. A connection. More than the simple knowledge that they shared the same urges. There had been a connection between the two of them. Porthos had been about to say something when Treville entered the room. Aramis wondered what Porthos was going to say as he had been rubbing his hand. The simple movement, Porthos offering comfort. The injured man comforting the medic. Porthos had noticed how annoyed he had become about the situation and had rested a hand over his. The move had been instinctive on Porthos’ part. Aramis was sure it did not mean anything. Was he reading too much into the situation?_ _

__He sighed and pushed the blankets aside as he swung his legs off the bed. Marsac was still asleep, the first full day back on guard duty had tired him out. Aramis quickly washed and dressed. He wanted to get to Porthos’ room before his friend tried to dress himself and pulled the stitches. Paul, who had been sharing with Porthos had taken rooms in the city after coming into some money from a rich uncle, leaving Porthos with no one to help him whilst he was recovering._ _

__Aramis quietly closed the door to his and Marsac’s room and walked along the row of sleeping quarters. He knocked gently at the door to Porthos’ room before pushing the door open. Porthos, who was busy doing up his breeches, could not help a guilty look._ _

__‘Are you going to tell me off?’_ _

__Aramis glared at his friend for a few seconds, ‘if you pull those stitches, I’ll not be my usual dedicated gentle self when I put them back in.’_ _

__‘I’m sorry,’ said Porthos with a huff of laughter, ‘it’s just frustrating how debilitating this is.’_ _

__He nodded towards his shoulder. Aramis sympathised. He reached his friend in a couple of strides and checked the bandage._ _

__‘It’s a bit lose,’ he said as he started to untie it._ _

__Porthos sat on the edge of the bed patiently as Aramis unwound the bandage. Aramis could not help touching his friend as he worked, each slight brush of his hand on Porthos arm or chest made him catch his breath. Aramis did not understand why he was reacting in such a way. He hoped Porthos did not notice._ _

__As he reapplied the bandage, ensuring it was tighter than before he consciously touched Porthos a little more than he needed to. Aramis wanted to touch him, but he did not know why. Porthos did not comment. Once the bandage was back in place Aramis picked up Porthos shirt ready to help him into it._ _

__‘Do you think I’ll lose any of the movement?’ asked Porthos._ _

__Aramis shook his head, ‘I hope not, but we won’t really know until it’s healed-’_ _

__‘If he loses movement you might stand a chance in a brawl against him.’_ _

__Aramis had to concentrate hard on not reacting to Marsac’s comment. He had not noticed his friend appear at the doorway. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts for Porthos that he had forgotten what he was really there for. He quickly held the shirt out and helped Porthos to ease into it, but unlike the previous day did not help him to tuck it into his breeches. Porthos pushed himself up to stand and slowly tucked the billowing fabric in, Aramis knew the move would have hurt his friend, but somehow, he found he could not help whilst Marsac was standing in the doorway._ _

__He was confused and he hated the thoughts that were threatening him. He was thinking about Porthos in a way that he should not. He had not realised it was happening. Aramis was worried Marsac would notice. He was worried Porthos might notice. He was sure Porthos had noticed, the change in his demeanour was quite marked._ _

__Aramis decided he would visit a priest and make his confession at the earliest moment._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos had noticed. Porthos noticed that Aramis was taking his time as he wrapped the bandage over his shoulder, running his finger along the edge of the cloth, checking it was not too tight. Porthos did not react. He was not sure if Aramis even knew he was doing it. If he reacted his friend would stop. And Porthos did not want Aramis to stop. Ever._ _

__If he had not been injured Porthos was very tempted to try something, anything. A caress, a touch. Something. What he really wanted to do was grab his friend and kiss him. Porthos really wanted to do that. To start with he had just seen Aramis as a kindred spirit, but not now. Now he wanted to be with Aramis. He wanted his friend to touch him, wanted to touch him back, wanted to show him that it was not a sin. Wanted to show him that what he was not wrong. What did the Church know?_ _

__As Aramis picked up the shirt Porthos’ mind leapt forward to the moment Aramis would run his fingers around his waist, tucking the shirt into his breeches. It had come to be something that Porthos looked forward to each morning. He could probably deal with the shirt on his own, but he was not averse to pretending he was not as mobile as perhaps he now was. Not if it meant getting to enjoy a bit more time with his friend._ _

__Then Marsac was there, casually chatting about his injury as he waited for his friends. Aramis had not moved to help Porthos with his shirt other than to help him get his arms through the sleeves. Porthos had to tuck it in himself._ _

__Aramis’ whole demeanour had changed. He had put the barrier back up. The facade that only dropped when they were alone was firmly in place. Porthos wondered if Marsac knew his friend was constantly hiding who he was._ _

__‘I still think,’ Marsac said as he watched Aramis hold Porthos’ doublet out for him. ‘That we should teach Deschamps a lesson.’_ _

__Porthos sighed, ‘I wish we could as well. But I hate to be the one to admit it but it’s me who would suffer.’_ _

__Porthos hated that he was the one that would be most affected by any attempt at revenge. He wanted to deal with Deschamps as much as Aramis did, but they had accepted that it was not going to happen._ _

__Marsac shook his head, ‘I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, my friend,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I brought it up. And you don’t need to feel guilty about it.’_ _

__Porthos managed a smile. He noticed that Aramis was scowling slightly at Marsac._ _

__‘I’ll not do anything stupid,’ said Marsac, speaking to Aramis as though he were a petulant child._ _

__Aramis continued to scowl, ‘just make sure you don’t. I’ve already had to patch one friend up this week.’_ _

__Marsac chuckled, shrugged his shoulders and wandered away, towards the mess. Porthos finished buttoning his doublet as Aramis turned back to him._ _

__‘Perhaps it’s my turn to keep an eye on him?’ said Porthos with a smile._ _

__MMMM_ _

__He had moved to sit at the table outside the mess. Lunch had been cleared away and the garrison was quiet. Aramis had taken some of the cadets to the firing range to practise musket drills. The intermittent noise of the gunshots was reassuring to Porthos. The drills would help to improve the new arrivals. He well remembered the times he had been talked through the drills. Aramis was a good teacher and Porthos did not know another Musketeer who was a better shot than his friend._ _

__He reached out for another letter of introduction. More words from wealthy nobles asking the Captain to accept their sons into the garrison. Porthos was glad Treville did not limit himself to the sons of nobles. The Captain was not averse to recommendations from other Captains and occasionally using simple word of mouth about a man suitable for the regiment. Porthos still remembered the day the Captain had propositioned him. Being asked to join the Musketeers had been one of the proudest days of his life. More so than actually getting his commission._ _

__Marsac had been sat with him for a few minutes, laughing at the noble requests and making derogatory remarks about them lacking any real idea of what went on in the world. The Musketeer had wandered off to talk to the cadets as they returned from their target practice. Porthos saw him talking to Paul. Paul glanced across to him a few times and back toward the shooting range where Aramis was probably still helping the final few cadets. Porthos could not hear the conversation but could guess what they were talking about. He knew Marsac still wanted to meet with Deschamps. Porthos was not sure if he really wanted to stop him. Although he knew it would likely cause him problems if something happened to the Red Guardsman._ _

__Paul was gesturing that he wanted to accompany Marsac somewhere, but the Musketeer shook his head. One of the other cadets stopped Paul when the conversation started to get a bit heated. Marsac rested his hand on Paul’s arm and said something to him quietly. Paul glanced at Porthos again before nodding and walking towards the mess with the other cadets._ _

__Marsac spent a few seconds checking his weapons before walking purposefully out of the garrison and into the city._ _

__Porthos knew what Marsac was going to do. He had probably found out where Deschamps was likely to be from Paul and the other cadets. Marsac was going after Deschamps despite both himself and Aramis asking him not to. He was going alone so that there would be no repercussions for them. Porthos knew Aramis would not approve and he agreed._ _

__He quickly boxed up the letters he had been reading as Aramis returned from the firing range chatting amiably to a couple of the cadets who were carrying the muskets back to the armoury. Without wasting any time Porthos walked up to Aramis and took him by the arm, guiding him out of the garrison after Marsac._ _


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis was angry. He was annoyed that his friend felt the need to avenge him despite being told, several times, that he should not. When Porthos had grabbed his arm and steered him out of the garrison he had been confused. When Porthos had told him what he had seen his confusion initially turned to shock, then to anger.

Marsac was risking his life. What was he going to do? Challenge Deschamps to a duel. Or shoot the man in the back. If he was found out, which was highly likely, he would be arrested. The chances of him getting away without a death sentence were slim. He realised Porthos was watching him.

'You should go back," said Aramis. 'You're not fit yet.'

'And leave you to get yourself in trouble as well? I don't think so,' replied his friend.

Aramis sighed, 'he's always doing this sort of thing. I often wonder why he joined up. He berates the Royal family; he hates the upper classes...'

'Does he know?' asked Porthos.

'Know what?' asked Aramis as they turned a corner.

'About you... and your... needs?'

Aramis stared at Porthos for a few seconds.

'Why would I tell him? It's wrong... he wouldn't understand... he wouldn't approve.'

Admitting that one of his best friends would not understand what he was- a corrupt sinner, had been difficult. Aramis had never thought about it before. Perhaps he found Marsac's company to his liking because he was the opposite of him in so many ways.

'Sorry,' said Porthos.

Aramis wondered why his friend had asked, what did he want? Did Porthos want approval from Marsac? Aramis hoped his friend would never broach the subject in front of Marsac. His friend had made it clear a few times that men who sought the company of other men were evil and deserved everything they got. Aramis knew his friend's attitude helped him to maintain his own view that what he did was wrong. He had to be extremely vigilant when he had a liaison. If Marsac caught him, the Musketeer would probably kill him.

They turned into the road before the Red Guards garrison. Porthos nudged him and pointed ahead. Their worst fear was about to be realised. Marsac had seen Deschamps who was strolling ahead of them. The man was not in a hurry, probably winding down after a day’s duty. Aramis knew they could not shout out; they could not draw attention to themselves.  
Marsac walked up to Deschamps and, after a quick look around, grabbed him and bundled  
him off the main road towards a small disused square. The empty square was not overlooked, it would make the perfect place to assault someone. There would be no witnesses.

The two following Musketeers quickened their pace. Porthos started to move faster, Aramis realised his friend wanted to intervene. Aramis grabbed Porthos' arm causing him to yelp in pain as his injury was agitated. Aramis had to hold his friend up, cursing himself for forgetting the injury.

'What... why?'

'We can't do anything,' Aramis reminded him. 'All we can do is pick up the pieces. If we're seen here,' Aramis pointed towards the Red Guard's garrison, 'we can't explain ourselves.'

Porthos, who was breathing hard as he rode out the pain Aramis had inadvertently caused, managed a nod Aramis could tell he was still annoyed. Marsac was doing what they both wanted to do.

They reached the turning to the square and cautiously looked along the alleyway. Marsac had Deschamps pinned against a wall. No weapons had been drawn. Aramis wondered if Marsac only wanted to warn the Red Guardsman off. He knew all that would achieve would be to give the man a new target.

Deschamps kicked out at Marsac causing the Musketeer to stumble back a few paces. Aramis took a few steps forward as both men drew their swords.

MMMM

Porthos was forced to repay the favour his friend had paid him mere minutes before. He grabbed Aramis and stopped him rushing forward. Aramis looked at him for a few seconds before he realised what he had been about to do.

The sound of the swords clashing caused them both to advance slowly. 

Porthos knew that Deschamps was good with a sword. He had not seen Marsac fight properly. The brief ring of steel on steel stopped. Aramis had found a deep doorway where they could stand unobserved by the two men. Marsac and Deschamps were evenly matched in height, with Marsac only a few years older. They were circling one another.

'What have I done to upset you?' asked Deschamps, a self-righteous sneer on his lips.

The Red Guardsman knew exactly what Marsac wanted.

'Are they friends of yours? The mongrel and the whore?'

Porthos felt the tension mount in Aramis at Deschamps words. He looked down as Aramis shifted slightly. The marksman had pulled his gun. Porthos knew that although they should not interfere Aramis would not stand by and watch as his friend was hurt. They would deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

Marsac moved forward, Deschamps moved to meet him. The two men were soon embroiled in a fierce fight. Porthos could see they were both as good as each other. The only difference was that Deschamps' moves were a little more elaborate, he was the son of a noble. He would have been taught for show, not war. Porthos remembered Deschamps had needed coaching along with the other upper-class men. His swordsmanship had improved greatly.

The fighting Musketeer was moving smoothly, his footwork impeccable. What went against Marsac was his lack of speed. Porthos wondered if he was still fatigued from his long mission. 

What it did mean was that Marsac was losing the fight. He was tiring and Deschamps was taking advantage. The two men fell against each other when Marsac stumbled forward. Deschamps pushed Marsac away.

'You're weak. Just like him. Perhaps you and he need some alone time.'

Porthos saw a look of confusion cross Marsac's face. Their friend did not understand what Deschamps was saying. Porthos hoped Marsac would not ask Aramis what Deschamps was talking about.

They continued to fight but Deschamps clearly had the upper hand.

Aramis checked his gun was primed and ready. Deschamps managed to corner Marsac and trip him to the ground. Aramis raised the gun, using his left arm as a rest, sighting along the barrel. Porthos was convinced his friend was about to fire.

A dog barked, followed by a shout. 

Deschamps, his sword raised above Marsac, paused. He looked around. Marsac took advantage of the hesitation and swung his sword catching Deschamps across the arm. The Red Guardsman stepped away, glaring at Marsac for a few seconds. 

Porthos wondered if he might step forward again and try to finish what he had stated. A quick glance at Aramis told Porthos his friend thought the same, the marksman's finger was tightening on the trigger. But Deschamps leaned over Marsac and spat at him before running off.

The Red Guardsman rushed past Porthos and Aramis without seeing them. As he disappeared Aramis rushed forward. Marsac stared at them both as he pushed himself up. Aramis reached out to help his friend up. Marsac had the good grace to look contrite.

'You really don't need to tell me off,' said Marsac as he caught his breath.

'You're an idiot,' said Aramis. 'We told you not to do anything. What if he'd killed you? Do you think we wouldn't have reacted to that?'

Aramis pushed Marsac back into the wall. Porthos was shocked at how annoyed his friend was.

'What if you were caught?'

'Aramis,' said Porthos as calmly as he could, 'let him go. He's only done what we both want to.'

Aramis stared at Marsac for a few more seconds.

'Fool,' he said before releasing his friend.

'I'm sorry. I was just annoyed that he'd got away with it,' Marsac looked towards Porthos. 'And it annoys me that he thinks it's alright to treat us... the lower classes... the way he does.'

Porthos stepped forward, 'let's get back to the garrison before we're missed. You can continue to berate him there.'

'I probably deserve it,' agreed Marsac.

MMMM

They walked back to the garrison in silence. Aramis was seething. Porthos could feel the anger coming off his friend. Marsac looked pale, the fight had worn him out, but otherwise, he did not appear to be hurt. As they turned into the garrison Porthos moved ahead and checked that no one else was around. It was getting late and most of the men that were not on duty were either in the city enjoying the evening or had retired to their rooms. The three musketeers managed to get to the room that Aramis and Marsac shared without meeting anyone. 

Marsac sat heavily on the bed and watched Aramis. Porthos pulled out a chair from the small table, he sat watching as Aramis shrugged out of his weapons and doublet and pulled a couple of cloths from a drawer. He dampened the cloths and walked up to Marsac who remained silent. Aramis cleaned the few grazes his friend had collected on his cheek and hands. Aramis was not particularly gentle, but he was thorough. 

Porthos wondered if Aramis was deliberately being more firm with his friend. It could either be the anger that Aramis had at that moment or it could be a reaction to what Deschamps had said. Was Aramis consciously or perhaps unconsciously making sure he showed no signs of affection towards his friend. Porthos knew that every time Aramis had dealt with his injuries, apart from when they were with other people, he had been gentle and considered in his movements. 

When Marsac finally spoke, Aramis’ reaction told Porthos all he needed to know. 

‘Deschamps referred to you as a whore,’ said Marsac with a shake of his head. ‘As if you were anything like that. Bloody cheek.’

Aramis laughed. Porthos could tell is was not real. He wondered if Marsac could. The Musketeer did not react.

‘No idea where he’s got that idea from,’ said Aramis firmly.

Porthos almost shook his head, his friend was so good at hiding his true self, hiding his past, that it was second nature to him. But Porthos did detect a slight hint of hurt in the words, a slight tremble to his voice. Perhaps Porthos only noticed it because he was listening for it. Marsac would not have been looking for any chink in the armour, because he did not know the armour was there. 

‘To think he would consider one of the King’s Musketeers would ever consider doing something like that. If I didn’t think you’d knock me down, I’d go back and teach him a lesson for making the suggestion.’

Aramis laughed his fake laugh again.

‘You, my friend, are going to stay right there.’

Porthos watched as Aramis glared at Marsac who nodded his agreement. 

‘Perhaps another day to recover would be a good idea.’

Porthos pushed himself up to stand, ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ he said.

‘I’ll check your stitches,’ said Aramis, ‘you’ve been quite active the last few hours, keeping your friends safe.’

Porthos glanced at Marsac who shrugged, a guilty grin on his face, ‘thank you,’ he said. ‘It was stupid, but I was annoyed. I don’t like seeing my friends attacked for no reason.’

As his friend led him back to his bedroom Porthos realised that Aramis had shared with him things that he would never consider sharing with Marsac. Marsac did not approve of what they were, he did not understand. Despite their friendship, Aramis could never be completely open and honest with Marsac. Porthos hid a smile as he realised how flattered he was that Aramis had let him in, let him become a friend with a secret connection. 

Porthos was not going to be cast aside now that Marsac was back. Aramis needed him, now that he had opened up that small amount, admitted that he had inclinations that were the same as Porthos’, Aramis needed him as a friend. 

And Porthos was more than happy to oblige.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...to be continued...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. The next part is planned, it will be a bit darker.


End file.
